


Needles and Boo-boos

by Neutralchaos



Series: Brock Rumlow's  (not so) amazing adventures (OR Brock needs to get his shit together and Jack is an asshole about it) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brock is a giant man-child, Crack, Established Relationship, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, OC's(mentioned), and Jack is an asshole, crack with a side of fluff, rated for language more than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralchaos/pseuds/Neutralchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attn:<br/>Personnel and Agents that are required to travel on a regular basis, are required to report to medical A.S.A.P for mandatory vaccinations.<br/>“Brock, are you scared of needles?” It’s a guess, and Brock knows it. Hell, Jack knows that it’s a shot in the dark but given the way Brock tenses up and sucks a breath in, he’s willing to put money on the fact that he’s managed to pinpoint what Brock’s problem is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needles and Boo-boos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitual/gifts).



> One day, @usopp had a plot bunny. And I was compelled (with permission of course) to make it a reality.

Brock slammed open the door to his tiny little office. (At least that’s what the higher-ups called it, Brock called it a closet. Because that’s what it was.) Crumpled up in his fist there a small pink piece of paper. Taking the two steps towards his desk, he tosses the offending item like it’s on fire, onto his desk and crashes into his chair. Leaning forward, he slumps down and cradles his head in his hands, taking deep breathes to try and calm himself down. He honestly had no idea how long he sits there for before his desk starts to faintly vibrate beneath his elbows. Lifting his head up, he looks at his desk puzzled for a moment before he remembers that he dropped his phone into one of the desk drawers that morning. 

**Daddy (7:09 am): Don’t forget to grab beer on your way home.**

**Daddy (11:12 am): why is Greyson calling me on my one fucking day off?**

**Daddy (11:21 am): what the hell, Brock?**

**Daddy (11:24 am): you broke Sanders arm???**

**Daddy (11:27 am): Brock, what the hell is going on?**

**Daddy (11:30 am): Pick up your fucking phone**

**Daddy (11:35 am): Brock, ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE**

**Daddy (11:37 am): DO NOT MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE.**

**Daddy (11:39 am): it’s my day off Brock, If I come down there I guarantee that it’s not gonna end well for you.**

**Daddy (11:43 am): ffs, I’m getting dressed.**

**Daddy (11:47 am): Starting the truck.**

Brock glanced at the time the last text was sent before checking the time now and:

_ Well I’m fucked. _

All Brock can do at this point is pick up the little pink memo, flatten it and re-read the those seemingly innocent words.

Attn: 

Personnel and Agents that are required to travel on a regular basis, are required to report to medical A.S.A.P for mandatory vaccinations.

As Brock attempts to incinerate the neon coloured ( and really, who’s fucking idea was it to make the fucking thing pink?) piece of dead wood by glaring at it, the door crashes open and Jack stomps his way in, slamming the door shut behind him. Brock being the highly trained S.T.R.I.K.E. agent (and commanding officer) that he is, most certainly does not flinch and let out a tiny, little “eep” noise, whilst throwing his hand over-top of the piece of paper on his desk to cover (hide) it. To say Jack looks pissed, is a supreme understatement and Brock is suddenly very aware of how pissed Jack must be, to not only make his down here on his day off because Brock couldn’t keep his fucking issues confined to himself and do his fucking job like the professional he’s supposed to be, but Jack didn’t even bother to put any thought into his appearance before he came down. Jack’s hair was pulled up into a quick little top-knot type of thing, to keep it out his face, instead of gelled back combined with, the torn jeans, muscle shirt, leather jacket and boot combo, was making Brock now toe the line between “oh fuck, I’m sorry” and “Harder, please Daddy”. 

“What the hell is your fucking problem?”

Brock is torn out of his thoughts by Jack’s growl, and he slowly tears his gaze off of his husband’s outfit and brings his eyes up to meet Jack’s. Making sure to keep eye-contact Brock leans back in his chair, cracks his neck a little and-

“What the fuck are you going on about?” he snarls right back, because he’s a contrary little shit and there is no way in fucking hell he’s about to give up this particular issue. Not when he knows how stupid it is, given their entire fucking job description. Jack narrows his eyes at Brock, leans down slightly and places his (stupidly large) hands down onto the desk. Everything about his body language is screaming ‘you’re gonna tell me what the fuck is going on because I am incredibly done with your shit right now’ and Brock’s struggling to keep eye contact already. Which isn't possible for anyone besides Jack, there’s just something about how his gaze seems to pierce right through Brock. 

“Alright, you little shit, you wanna sit there and try and tell me that you put one of our guys out of commission for the next six weeks, and then stormed off in a little hissy-fit over nothing?” Jack isn’t yelling, but Brock knows he’s in deep shit already. Sanders is their backup demo expert. If he’s out of commission, than that means Jack has no time off until the arm his healed. Brock sinks down a bit in his hair and starts looking anywhere else in the room besides at Jack. Unfortunately his gaze repeatedly falls down to his desk and consequently the paper hidden underneath his hand. Jack, the observant bastard that he is, of course notices and quicker than a man his size has any right to be, snatches it up. Jack’s facial expression goes from ‘you’re in shit’ to ‘what the fuck’ in the couple moments it takes for him scan the words on the paper. 

“Are you shitting me? Is this what has your panties all twisted up?” Jack asks, genuinely baffled. Furrowing his eyebrows together he tries to get Brock look back up at him, which is harder than it seems because Brock had decided that the wall to left of Jack is very entertaining. Jack stands up, crosses his arms over his chest and scrutinizes Brock’s face for a few minutes before says lowly, “Brock, are you scared of needles?” It’s a guess, and Brock knows it. Hell, Jack knows that it’s a shot in the dark but given the way Brock tenses up and sucks a breath in, he’s willing to put money on the fact that he’s managed to pinpoint what Brock’s problem is.   

“N-no,” Brock stutters and mentally kicks himself in the balls, because  _ way to go you fucking genius. Real convincing.  _ “Why are you even asking me such a fucking stupid question? Are you scared of needles? Huh?” Even as he manages to spit the words out, Brock is incredibly aware of how fucked he is. Jack’s face has gone from adorably confused, to slightly concerned, to ‘Boy, you are in for it now’. No joke. Satan himself should be scared of the look on Jack’s face at this very moment and Brock is very much calculating on whether or not he can leap over his desk and out the door without Jack catching him. 

“‘M not scared. Just think the whole thing is fucking stupid.”

“Well, if you’re not scared, then I guess you’d better head down and it over with.” Jack says with a smirk on his face, looking the smug bastard Brock knows he is.  

Brock makes a decision, he knows that he will have to get the vaccination at some point soon, so like the highly trained specialist that he is, he stands up...and shoves the desk into Jack before leaping around it in a mad dash to get out the door and down the hall. He manages to make it two steps before he feels Jack’s arm wrap around his midsection, knocking the air right out of him and hoisting him up and over Jack’s shoulder. Brock tries to twist out of it but Jack might as well be made out of fucking iron at this point, because nothing Brock is doing is having any effect and Jack is just calmly making his way to the door. As Jack opens the door, Brock sees his opportunity and latches onto the door frame with everything he’s got. 

“Rollins!” He says putting every ounce of authority into his voice that he can muster, given the situation, “ Put me down right fucking now before I decide make sure your ass get’s fucking fired!” Jack, the asshole, doesn’t put him down. He doesn’t even verbally respond, he just gives Brock two quick pats on his ass and keeps walking as if this kind of thing was normal. Which… considering  **nobody** even looks twice at them the entire way down to the medical wing, it must be. 

Once they reach their destination, Jack tosses Brock into one of the chairs in the waiting area and-“Stay.”- he says before going to sign Brock in. Brock glares at his back, crosses his arms, slouches down into the hard plastic chair “‘m not a fucking dog, Rollins.” he pouts. The only reason he doesn't try and book it again, is the fact that the waiting room is already full and Brock’s pretty sure that the doctors will be too busy to see him today. So it comes as a surprise when Jack comes marching back, still looking as smug as ever like he read Brock’s mind, and says with a jerk of his head, “Come on, found someone that get this done JUST for you,real quick.” Before Brock can even think about getting out of it, Jack’s hand is wrapped around his arm and is steering him toward one of the tiny, little offices off to the left.

Inside, Jack deposits him into the chair beside the desk and plops a seat beside the door. Like he’s certain that Brock is gonna run off and Brock has to admit… he’s not wrong. (Un) Luckily it’s not long before one of the doctors walks in, with tray holding about seven different needles and Brock is pretty sure that his eyes must resemble small plates, because the grin on Jack’s face just got bigger. The doctor sets down the tray and looks over at him holding the rubber tubing to tie around his arm. 

“Right or left?” She asks all business-like. Brock stares at her, for a second before he shrugs. “ Don’t care. Let’s just get this fucking nonsense over with.” She leans over and ties the tourniquet on securely and says, “ it’s alright, lot’s of people don’t like needles.” as she turns to select the first one. Over by the door, Brock can hear Jack snicker, and throws a glare his way before he flexes his arm a bit and says “I’m not scared of needles, doc. I mean are you aware of how many times I’ve needed stitches because shit’s hit the fan?” The doctor doesn’t even deign him with an answer, as Brock resolutely and pointedly looks in the opposite direction. Which, unfortunately means he’s staring directly at Jack’s smirking face. Brock feels the first shot prick his arm and will deny until the day he finally kicks the bucket that tears sprung up into his eyes.

When the last vaccine is finally administered and Brock is pressing the cotton ball over the injection site, while the Doctor searches for a band-aid, Jack is covering his mouth with his hand, trying to hide the cheshire cat grin he’s been sporting the entire fucking time. 

“Oh dear…” 

Brock turns his head in the direction that the doctor's voice came from, and fixes her with a questioning look. 

“ I seem to have run out of normal band-aids,” she starts almost sheepishly, “For some reason the ones I can find are these ones.” and she opens and smoothes a-

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” Brock exclaims looking down at the pink, covered with flowers,tiaras and peppered with some blonde haired bitch all over it monstrosity. “What is this shit?” his hand already moving upwards to rip the offending item off of his person but before he can, Jack’s large hand covers his, and the other man is staring right at it. The doctor clearly sees an opening and quietly exits the room, leaving the two men alone.

“Well, would ya look at that,” Jack mutters, pressing down on the band-aid, “princesses for my princess.” he finishes with the grin on his face getting wider. Jack looks up at Brock’s face and take note of the flush of red that’s starting to show even through his olive skin tone. “Do you wanna take it off?” 

“...No, might as well leave it on.” Brock mutters, his voice sounding like it belongs on a much smaller person. Jack smiles, presses a kiss to Brock’s forehead and asks,

“Do you want me to kiss you boo-boo all better?”

Brock shoves him off by elbowing Jack in the ribs and storms out the door muttering, “for fuck’s sake… give him a fucking inch…” As Jack doubles over in the tiny space, laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh come on! You forgot your lollipop!” Jack yells at Brock’s retreating form and is rewarded with a firm middle finger salute.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr @neutralchaos915


End file.
